


The Flowering of Ms Bloom

by Relative_safety



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Bisexual Character, F/F, F/M, Fluff, I basically really love Alana bloom, Murder Wives, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:41:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23732503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Relative_safety/pseuds/Relative_safety
Summary: ‘That’s Dr, actually.’The evolution of Alana’s relationships as sure as the turning of the seasons, and yet she tries to stop time with each.A work in progress for my favourite bichiatrist <3
Relationships: Alana Bloom & Hannibal Lecter, Alana Bloom & Margot Verger, Alana Bloom/Hannibal Lecter, Alana Bloom/Margot Verger, Alana Bloom/Will Graham
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	The Flowering of Ms Bloom

Season 1: Summer 

Alana Bloom was hardly a fanciful person. If something took her interest, she would investigate it like any other scientific mind - albeit with more of a twinkle in her eye directed at the object that had captured her attention. A careful observation of the thing, followed by increased interactions and thinly veiled behind a warm, scarlet smile (or ‘Joli Rouge’, as Hannibal would later remark) and climax of each interest peaking in a spike of serotonin, shared lips and the scarlet smeared over someone else’s face.

All too often, the denouement was not much more than a courteous nod in the hallways of the university, or on one occasion, the halls of the FBI. Being a respected psychiatrist, Alana could appreciate her failure to progress in most relationships being the pressures of her job, or her consultation on various corpses, and the ridiculously high standards she set for herself that inevitably spread to cover whatever partner she was seeing at the time.   
  
The one occasion her mind refused to linger on - yet persisted today, on all days - was one that happened not 24 hours ago, suddenly in the lecture hall of one Will Graham.   
  
It happened not without its buildup, something they could both see coming yet danced around like a pair of hummingbirds about the poisonous flower. She knew pursuing such a relationship was ill-advised (then again, what relationship wasn’t) and for once, she decided to throw in the towel. Both were well aware of the effect that it could have on their friendship, and in the harsh lighting of the lecture hall, smooth skin met stubble as Will gripped her arm, unwilling to let her go, and she mirrored the action, but knowing she would have to leave. He moved slowly, his calloused hands moving up to caress her cheek which she could swear did not have a tear track down it mere seconds ago. If he felt the wetness on his hand, he did not react explicitly, but simply drew back, and Alana could feel indirectly the pit growing in his stomach. And his mind. 

He simply was not the stability she desired.   
  


It was a moment she would later lament on the concrete, surrounded by shards of snowy glass. She wondered what would have become of her, of him, if she had simply smiled and kissed him again.

Could she have stopped him? 

No.

Could she have at least slowed the growth of the parasite winding through his unconscious?   
  
Her inner psycho-analyst had to laugh.

 _No_.   
  


That’s why, when Will offered her a sad smile, it was all she could do to prevent her voice from cracking. She was a sucker for a tragedy.

’Will. You aren’t stable.’ She regarded him softly, as if her words might cause him to unravel before her very eyes. He paused for a second, absorbing the meaning of what she said.

’I...don’t feel stable.’ He responded, the glassy brown of his eyes, growing cloudier by the day, met the piercing blue of hers. Fissures had begun to appear in his behaviour, Dr Bloom could notice it in any patient yet with him she could not help but turn a blind eye. Lifting a hand, she settled it on the rough curve of his neck, fingertips skirting over the lines of missed stubble and light scars where he had clearly missed. She drew him back to her, leaning her forehead against his as if trying to will her sanity over to him. There was a crackle, a visible spark - the two slotted together, like puzzle pieces from two different jigsaws that made a malformed image yet tried to work nonetheless. His breath, ragged and uneven, blew over her face and made whirlpools of the strands of hair that had slipped from her authoritative styling.

If such a thing was possible, it was never going to work for Alana. 

When she left him, standing in the hallway, it was not a sad departure but the empty hope in her promises - ‘one day’ she had told him, - crushed her as ‘one day’ would never come.

Will, once she had rounded the corner and the click of her heels had faded into the quiet buzz of the lights, he practically ran to Hannibal’s lecture hall - obviously it was not his own, yet he had such a commanding presence there that most lecturers took not the classes before nor after his for fear of losing their students’ attention to the charismatic Lithuanian. Will’s mop of chestnut hair became more of a singular sentient tangle in his rush, which did not stop him from addressing the domineering man with almost friendly regard.

’I kissed Alana Bloom.’ He paused, his breath hitching either out of excitement, disbelief or simple exertion. ‘She’s very kissable.’.

The psychiatrist in question had continued walking out the lecture hall, into her car and simply sitting there, the engine stalling as she rested her head on the wheel. All of her instincts was telling her to release this singular interest of hers. And her inner psychiatrist agreed wholeheartedly. And her inner sense agreed wholeheartedly.  
  


So why did it take so long to accept that Will Graham was quicksilver. She gripped him, only for him to drip languidly into the jaws of another. 


End file.
